They All Lived Story 14: The Long Road
by LadyWordsmith
Summary: The war with Xing is over. Edward, Havoc, and the others can move on with their lives, but this proves to be easier for some than for others. Sometimes it's a long road to recovery.


**May 1****st****, 1941**

Edward, Sara, and Winry stayed at Base Command on the Eastern Front for another two weeks after Winry's arrival, until the doctors felt Ed was well enough to be transported. Not to travel, but to be transported, like living cargo. He and Havoc and several other wounded soldiers were carried by military train back to Central. They were immediately checked into the Central Hospital, where Ed spent a little over another two weeks stuck in a hospital room where they could keep an eye on him and make sure he did as he was told!

The month was a difficult one for Ed, though he tried not to complain or show it. Still, every time he saw a needle – no matter how harmless or helpful the contents – he flinched and broke out in a sweat. It was pure stubborn will that made him hold still, eyes closed tight, when they had to give him something or take a blood sample. Still, he didn't complain. It was just a dumb panic reflex.

The food wasn't great, but at least being back under Doc Stevenson's care had its advantages. There was plenty of food available whenever Ed wanted it. So he ate, a 'lot.' He tried not to gorge too badly, but it was difficult. When he expressed a little concern during one examination, Stevenson had actually laughed at him and pointed to Ed's rather distinct ribs. "I'd be more concerned if you weren't starved," he replied. "You've been malnourished and underfed for months. Give it time. Your body hasn't figured out yet that there's a regular food supply again."

Meanwhile, Ed was healing up well, at least physically. Or that was what the doctor and nurses told him. The layers of bruising had healed up for the most part, and only a couple of the worst ones remained in mottled browns and yellows. Aside from being too thin, his face looked normal again. The lashes on his back had faded to fresh narrow scar lines, and it looked like only one or two were bad enough that they might not fade with time. Still, they were no longer painful, just occasionally sensitive. Most of the cuts healed up to thin lines and the burns were scars, but healing well. The water scalds healed over with new flesh. Ed was lucky the enemy hadn't broken anything. While the drugs had messed with his insides, his tormentors hadn't done anything that had caused permanent damage to his organs: at least, not the internal ones. Externally, well, it was weeks before he could relieve himself without pain.

What Ed still lacked was energy. Once, he'd always had plenty of reserves, but he'd been pushed so far past his endurance this time that now it took a conscious effort to do most anything. He slept long, odd hours, still often interrupted by nightmares that brought him awake, breathing hard, and sometimes up swinging.

They made him talk to a councilor.

"Standard procedure," Stevenson assured him. Ed knew a lot of soldiers experienced stress and bad dreams after wartime experience. Hell, he'd had bad dreams all his life; but he'd never thought much about them. They were just dreams. They weren't real. But these…these were more intense, more real, and frightening. So Ed had humored the doctors. He'd told the councilor about his bad dreams, and about what had happened to him. Most of the details he told in a fairly steady voice with large amounts of irony and sarcasm, but calm – until even the councilor blanched. He told Ed that what he was experiencing was normal; that the doctors could give him something to help him sleep better if he asked, and promised him that, in time, he would heal emotionally as well as physically. But Ed knew that already and declined the offer of medication.

The one thing Ed didn't mention was the flashbacks. They weren't big things. But sometimes, when he was awake, something would suddenly remind him of a particular moment or memory, and he would briefly be back there in that cell, or on the 'bed,' and he'd have to shake himself to bring him back to the present. He'd had a flashback before too; when he was much younger. Then it had been of the homunculus that had become Sloth, the way he had first seen her when he saw a dead woman in an alley. He'd fainted dead away that time.

Now, he was too stubborn. He'd shake them away, and do his best to forget about it. He knew was the flashbacks were, and Ed was convinced he could deal with them on his own again too. The problem was, it took a lot less to set these off.

Yet most of the time things seemed reasonably normal. Winry was at his side the whole time of course, and she had been allowed to attach his new auto-mail a couple of days before they boarded the train for Central. It had surprised Ed how little it hurt in comparison to what he remembered. Yes, it was painful, but he had experienced so much worse lately that his body barely seemed to react to the pain.

The first day in the Central hospital, and every day thereafter, Winry and all three kids were there to visit as much as possible. Alphonse and Elicia had come to visit the first day too, allowed in to visit as soon as Ed got situated. It had been a brief but happy reunion. Al looked pained when Ed tried to joke about his appearance, and Ed suspected that Al felt the same guilt Ed had when his brother had suffered when he was younger. Knowing Al, he probably wished he could have been there.

Sara was, at both of her parents' insistence, well and thoroughly grounded for the next two months which meant that, other than school and home, she wasn't allowed to be anywhere other than 'with' her mother, or perhaps with Al and Elicia, or Gracia, at their houses.

Despite her protests, Sara seemed to be taking the whole thing surprisingly well. She seemed more relieved to be home than anything else, and accepted the punishment with reasonable maturity.

She spent more time with Ed too. While Aldon and Ethan were thrilled to have their Dad back, and Ed had been eager to see his boys, Sara seemed to need time with him. A week after their return to Central, she had requested to stay in the room with Ed when Winry went to take Aldon and Ethan over to play with William and Alyse. "I'll be back in a bit," Winry promised.

Ed watched his daughter sit down beside his hospital bed. She looked nervous, much less sure of herself than she had when he had woken up to see her waiting for him, taking care of him. "What's up?" he asked.

Sara sighed. "I just…I needed to talk about, you know…things. But, I don't really want to tell Mom about some things. I don't think she'd understand."

She wanted to talk about the war. Ed nodded. "Ask away." He stifled the instinct to call her 'kiddo.'

"How do you deal with it?" she blurted out. "I mean, how do you get past everything and live with the reality of what you've seen?"

Ed smiled weakly. He still asked that of himself sometimes, even though he technically knew the answer. "By accepting what happened for what it was; and accepting that it's part of the past. War is a terrible thing, Sara. People fight and die for some of the stupidest reasons. But you didn't kill anyone. In fact, you saved thousands of lives. I'm proud of you."

Sara smiled. "Thanks. I just wish I still felt like it. I mean, I fixed weapons that the soldiers used to kill people, but I still feel good about having done my job well. Is that wrong?"

"Not at all," Ed shook his head. "You were doing a job you could do to help, and those soldiers knew their equipment would work in protecting them, and all of this country. From what I could see, you made a lot of friends out there."

Sara looked embarrassed then, and looked away. "Yeah, I did. Still I…I felt so stupid for going, for a while. I had no idea what a soldier's life was really like."

Only then did it occur to Ed that perhaps Sara was trying to deal with other issues as well. War was a confusing, chaotic place, and Ed knew soldiers. And while he didn't think any of them would… "Sara, did anything _happen_ while you were at the Base?"

His daughter's face went bright, bright pink from the top of her head down into her shirt. It was not the reaction Ed had been hoping for! Sara fidgeted, and then looked up at him. "I heard a lot of things," she admitted. "Soldiers tell…interesting stories."

"They do," Ed nodded, grimacing inside. "Sara…is there anything you'd like to tell me?" She looked like she had something to get off her chest, and Ed braced for the worst. Despite her apparent maturity, he knew well how innocent he had been at fourteen – no matter how much he thought he knew – and this was his daughter!

Sara licked her lips, uttering a small sigh. "Well I… after the Battle, one of the soldiers offered me a drink," she admitted. "So I…well I tried it."

Was that all? Ed almost laughed in relief. "And?"

"And it was disgusting," Sara stuck her tongue out. "I almost threw up afterwards. But Lina helped me out so I wouldn't embarrass myself."

"Anything else I should know about?" Ed pressed just a little further. "I know what soldiers are like. How confusing and emotional war can be."

When his meaning sank in, he was amused when Sara's eyes went wide and she glared at him furiously. "Dad! Ugh, no!" Her face was still flushing furiously, but Ed was satisfied: no one had laid a hand on his daughter.

"Good," Ed chuckled. "I didn't want to have to castrate anyone."

"So," Sara said when things had grown quiet again. "I heard today that everyone not assigned to Eastern Command directly will be coming home soon."

"And how did you hear that?" Ed asked. Given her restricted movement lately, that had to be something.

"From a friend, who called," Sara admitted, though she seemed reluctant to say more. "We worked together."

"I see." Ed didn't press. Sara's experiences were still fresh, and still very personal. He didn't blame her for her reluctance to talk to anyone else about them, and was glad she felt she could talk to him openly. Well, they had more shared experiences now. "I'm glad to hear it. I'm sure Breda will be glad to get back here. How's Havoc doing? I haven't heard a word out of him."

"They let Colonel Havoc go home a few days ago," Sara admitted. "He wasn't hurt in…in a lot of the ways you were."

Ed didn't have to ask what she meant. He knew she had the full rundown of what had been done to him in the ruins. Even the parts he would rather she didn't. That had been painful enough to tell Winry! Fortunately for Ed, he didn't identify his masculinity with physical interaction as much as most men, so while he still felt a little emasculated, it was more embarrassment than any feeling of inadequacy. "They wanted to know how to make a Philosopher's Stone, Sara, and they were desperate. People do strange and often hurtful things when they are driven that far."

"Don't you hate them for what they did to you?" Sara asked, her voice thick with emotion, her eyes full of anger.

"Hate takes a lot of energy I don't have right now," Ed sighed. "Yes, I'm mad as hell for what they did. No, I won't ever forgive the people who did this, and they don't deserve that forgiveness. Why they did it is certainly no excuse; but that doesn't mean I don't understand it."

He could tell from her expression that Sara didn't fully understand the depths of what he was trying to say. That was all right. She had time to learn. "I don't get it," she admitted finally with a sigh. "And I hate that," she added. "I don't like feeling like a kid still after doing all that. It felt so good when everyone accepted me out there, when they called me their heroine for helping defend the Base, even if I think that was a bit too much. I felt brave and grown up and part of the team. And now…"

"Now it's back to the real world," Ed finished for her when she faltered. He reached out and took her hand, giving it a squeeze. "I didn't understand it myself when I was your age. Al and I were running around the country looking for the Philosopher's Stone, trying to get Al's body back, and doing whatever missions Mustang tossed my way. We were kids, but I was a State Alchemist and we had important things to do." He smiled. "I gave up my childhood when I decided to do those things, but that doesn't mean your uncle and I weren't still kids. We had a lot to learn about the world, and in some ways there were things we didn't really learn until much later than most."

He paused and drank from the glass of water that was always there, with a pitcher kept full. He couldn't seem to get enough of that lately either! "What I'm trying to say," He finally got there, "Is what I wanted more than anything for you, and now Aldon and Ethan, was for you to have the chance to grow up at your own pace; not forced to by circumstances. We all forge our own path though, when it comes to it, and you've started down yours. I'm still mad as hell that you ran off like that, but there's a large part of me that's proud of you too for sticking by your convictions. You've learned a lot recently. Take those lessons to heart, remember them, and don't let the dark parts of it weigh you down."

"Wow," Sara chuckled, obviously a little uneasy, but listening. "You should become a motivational speaker, Dad."

"I am," Ed smiled back. "Though convincing myself that you're more mature than I was at your age takes some doing, kiddo."

Sara rolled her eyes. "Dad?"

"What?"

"So don't call me kiddo."

**May 3****rd****, 1941**

Walking in the front door of his house for the first time in months was a slightly surreal experience for Edward. It felt like years. So much had happened, and time had been blurred so badly. Surprisingly little had changed though. Most everything was just as he'd left it.

"Come on, Dad!" Aldon grinned, taking his hand and half-dragging him into the living room.

"I'm coming," Ed laughed, letting himself be pulled along. He didn't want to face the potential embarrassment of being pulled off his feet by his ten year old son!

Ed found himself the recipient of a child-assembled 'welcome home Dad' party. Though he knew for a fact the cake was Gracia's handiwork! It was a relief to spend some time with just Winry and the kids. They laughed and talked, and Aldon told him all about everything he had been up to, and then it was Ethan's turn. Sara didn't have much to say that Ed figured she hadn't already told her little brothers and her mother – and there were some stories he knew she would never tell. But she was smiling and laughing and helped with the dishes afterwards without being asked. It was good to be home!

Later that evening, after a much longer bedtime routine with the kids than had been done in a long while, Ed and Winry retreated to their own bedroom. They hadn't been alone in private once since his rescue, and not since he had left for the East in the first place! He was looking forward to time with his wife.

The door closed, and Winry turned to him, smiling. "I've had fantasies about this for months," she admitted, chuckled softly, "Just having you back here with me."

Ed smiled and held out his arms, gathering her in a hug. She didn't squeeze him tightly – a lot of his surface area was still sensitive – but it conveyed all the love, need, and thankfulness that she possessed. "I thought about you all the time," he replied as he held her. "You gave me strength."

Winry tilted her head up and they kissed; a long, passionate connection that warmed quickly. Ed felt himself responding as the kiss deepened. It had been a long time; and it felt so good!

Winry chuckled when the kiss broke off. "Was that an invitation?" she teased softly.

Ed swallowed. "If I had the stamina to back it up," he admitted, feeling a little disappointed, but joking. He wanted to, but…

"It's all right," Winry ran one finger down the side of his jaw. "There's no rush. You've been through a lot. I just want you to be comfortable. Let's get ready for bed." She slipped out of his arms and began to change.

Ed didn't change immediately. He was too busy watching Winry undress. It was an image that he had lingered on often during the last several months; something inspirational; something that kept him going when all that was left to drive him was baser instincts. When she turned around after slipping a long silky nightgown over her head, he was still watching. Winry smiled. "You too, handsome; you're not sleeping in those," she gestured to his clothes.

"Oh, right," Ed chuckled and began to change. He was down to his pants when he paused. The scars and fading marks that covered most of his body didn't really bother him much, but there were the others … Unexpected panic struck him hard, freezing him in place. He wasn't ready for that; to let Winry see what they both knew to be there! It was irrational, but that didn't make the response any less violent.

"Ed?" Winry looked at him when he stopped moving.

His momentary panic broke. "I well… I need to use the restroom." He grabbed his shorts and ducked into the bathroom, closing the door with more force than he had intended. With the door behind him he leaned against it, stifling his frustration. It wasn't fair! His muscles tensed, and a tear escaped his cheek. He fought with himself, feeling immediately foolish. He'd told himself it didn't matter what they'd done to him there. Everything still worked. Okay, there was some question if he could have still fathered children after this, but he was okay with that! They had three and that was plenty. But at the time he hadn't thought about having to actually display those marks to his wife. Silly really, but he just hadn't let himself think too much about that.

"Edward?" he heard Winry's voice on the other side of the door. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," Ed made himself reply, trying to sound okay. "I'm coming." He quickly changed into his shorts. Really, the scars weren't so bad when it was just him. Why was it so much more embarrassing to let Winry see? Still, he just wasn't ready for that. He went back into the bedroom and smiled abashedly. "Sorry. I'm just a little tired."

Winry didn't entirely look like she bought it, but she sighed and smiled. "Then let's get some rest."

They snuggled down into bed and Ed put one arm lightly around Winry's shoulders. It was nice, even if it felt a little awkward after so long. Ed chided himself for thinking so. He just wasn't used to it again yet. Lately, his physical contact hadn't exactly been pleasant. He guessed some hesitation was to be expected. Maybe a little more would help him readjust. Tilting her chin up, he tried kissing Winry again. That had felt good, safe, and oh so very right.

Winry returned the kiss with eagerness and Ed knew he'd made a right move. His earlier panic seemed childish. His hand slipped down from her chin to her shoulder, and forward as he let himself relax, giving in to months of pent up frustration.

He was beginning to think that maybe he had the energy after all. Winry's hands were surprisingly gentle as she ran them lightly down his upper body. He didn't hurt when she touched him, and he felt himself responding. One of her hands slid down to his hip, and slipped just slightly below the waistband of his shorts.

_:"Shall we begin?" the voice was an amalgam of Winry's and the woman. The face was Winry's; the needle she held was full of a strange green liquid. She was laughing. "I enjoy this. Don't you?" She walked toward him and reached down to give him another injection.:_

"No!" Ed's arm swung out. He wouldn't let her! Not again! Crazy witch! He leaped backwards, free of the table and –

"Owww!"

Her yelp stopped him dead. Ed blinked, shaking in panic, and looked at Winry who had one hand to her face which held a look of absolute shock. "Ah hell. Winry!" Ed he reached forward but stopped when she flinched. "I'm so sorry! I…"

The fear and anger and guilt he felt must have been evident in his expression. In all their lives, Ed had never raised a hand to Winry! He'd only man-handled her once or twice, and he'd never hurt her. Winry sighed, rubbed her face, and shook her head. "Panicked," she finished softly. "No, Ed. It's not your fault. With what they did, I was a little surprised you were even willing to go this far."

Ed averted his eyes, feeling guilty anyway. "I hate this," he said finally. "Flinching at things I've wanted for so long. I want to and I can't, and it's all a mess in my head." He laughed, but there was no humor in it, just irony. "They didn't break me, Winry. That's what I told myself and yet, I still feel broken somewhere."

Winry cautiously edged back up to him, leaning her head gently against his shoulder. "Don't push yourself," she said softly. "And don't _punish_ yourself. They said it would take time for you to deal with everything. Just let yourself heal, Ed. I'm here for you, but if you need space don't feel bad about asking for it."

Ed turned his head so he could meet her eyes. "You know you're wonderful, don't you Winry?"

Winry smiled back. "I try."

**May 8****th****, 1941 **

Sara sat on the couch in the living room, leaning against one arm rest and using her knees as a prop for the book she was reading for school. It had taken her a lot of work to get caught up after running off in the middle of the year! But the grounding had also given her plenty of time to catch up, and school wasn't hard for her so she had actually managed it – and amazed her teachers in the process. She would be starting high school next year. The last thing she wanted was to be behind!

It had been difficult, and yet a relief too, to get her mind focused back on something that seemed, in the grand scheme of things, less critical. School work was not a life or death situation and learning was usually enjoyable. Sara was just getting to the end of a chapter when she heard her father coming downstairs. He'd been napping, still a regular thing. Mom was in her workroom.

"Ed?" Winry called out.

"What is it?" The door to her workshop opened.

"Havoc called and left a message," Winry explained. "He said Breda's back in town and that tonight you were supposed to make good on a promise, but he wouldn't tell me what it was."

Edward chuckled. "Did he say where to meet him?"

"He just said 'the usual watering hole' at six," Winry replied, and Sara could tell her mother was suspicious. "What's going on, Ed?"

Sara turned her head over her shoulder enough to see her father standing in the hall shrugging. "Just a little deal we made with each other…when we weren't sure we'd get out of there." He tossed it off casually, but Sara knew what it cost her father to say things like that.

"Oh, all right." As Sara expected her mother didn't argue. "Do you know when you'll be home?"

"Late," Ed replied as he headed for the door. Sara looked up at the clock, it was a little after five. "Don't hold dinner. We'll grab something."

"All right." Winry still sounded reserved, but Sara was getting used to it. It was weird, but her Mom didn't argue with her Dad much lately. She seemed to be going out of her way to avoid it. Sara was sure that things would get back to normal soon enough.

"Back later!" Ed chuckled and headed out the door.

When he was gone, Winry came out into the living room and spotted Sara sitting on the couch. "How's it going?"

"Just finished," Sara replied, closing the book and setting it aside.

"I wonder what that's all about," Winry commented absently, and Sara knew what her mother was referring to.

Sara shrugged as she marked the reading off her to-do list and reached for an alchemy book. Finally! "They're going to go to the bar and get drunk, Mom," she explained absently as she flipped it open.

Winry loomed over the couch, scowling. "And just how do you know that?"

Sara sighed and met her mother's gaze. "Because when they got back, Havoc kept reminding Dad that he'd made a promise and owed him a few drinks. I was in the tent while they were joking about it."

She watched her mother's expression falter, softening, and shifting between frustrated to accepting, and a little sad. "I just wondered."

"Think of it as closure, Mom," Sara suggested softly. "They made it out. Fulfilling that promise means the whole thing is really over."

The considering, startled look Winry gave her was one Sara had seen a few times since her mother had showed up out East to bring them home. Lately, it seemed Sara said a lot of things her mother didn't expect. Well that was okay. She'd learned a lot, and she'd changed. Maybe what the other soldiers had said was true. After living through something like that a little part of you would always still be there.

Winry nodded after a moment. "I guess that makes sense," she sighed. "You know, there are some days I still don't understand your father." She smiled then and looked at the next book Sara had opened. "It's no wonder you do," she chuckled softly. "You're just like him."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Sara smiled back at her Mom, who headed back into her workshop.

Sara was just two pages into the chapter she was reading when she heard the thunder of feet from both of her brothers coming downstairs, followed by Chase and Oscar.

"I'll beat you!" Ethan laughed, charging through the kitchen and out the back door that didn't lead onto the deck. The dogs streaked after him, the clatter of their nails sounding on the tile floor.

"That's not fair!" Aldon called after their little brother. "I don't have shoes on yet!" He came into the room, looking around almost frantically.

"They're under the table, Don," Sara gestured with one hand.

"Oh, thanks," Aldon sat down and started pulling them on. He looked up at Sara and her book and smirked. "Alchemy freak."

Sara stuck her tongue out at him. "Machine junky." It was actually good to be home.

Aldon laughed, but then sobered as he finished tying his laces. "Sara, can I ask you something?"

"Of course." She marked the book and closed it, sitting up to give her brother her full attention. "What is it?"

Aldon looked embarrassed. "I just, this sounds silly but, I figured everything would be okay again once Dad came home. Mom would stop being sad, and things would be normal. But the only ones who still seem normal are us; you and me, and Ethan."

Sara was touched to be included in Aldon's statement, even if she felt profoundly changed herself. Still, she knew what he meant. "It will be eventually, Don," she assured him with a smile. "They hurt Dad, a lot. He's just still not feeling great, and Mom doesn't want to make him feel bad for what happened. Just give it a little more time, okay?"

"Okay," Aldon stood and gave her a hug. "Thanks, Sis."

"Anytime, Little Brother," Sara hugged him back. She just hoped that it would be that simple.

**May 9****th****, 1941**

"Nah, it's all right, I'll walk home," Ed laughed as he waved to Breda and Havoc. "I could use a little night air to clear my head!"

"Your call," Havoc laughed as he and Breda headed the other way, Breda to his quarters on base, and Havoc to his apartment. Both were close by; unlike Ed's house.

But that was all right. Ed really did need the walk home. It had been a good night; a surprisingly liberating and cathartic experience to walk into the bar knowing that he wouldn't be walking out again until 'Havoc' was convinced he'd had enough!

It had been a good time: him, Breda, and Havoc, joking and drinking well into the night. Ed had gotten food, though at this point he couldn't remember what he'd ordered; just that it had been greasy and tasted good. Somewhere in there, there had even been some rather bad drunken singing: a definite 'first' for Ed.

If nothing else, he'd convinced Havoc that he really _could_ drink seriously if he chose too. He'd lost track of what all they'd imbibed tonight, but he'd stopped a glass or two shy of too drunk to stand, and the last hour, he'd nursed down a last beer instead of the shots they'd done earlier. So he was still a little unsteady but he was mobile, and he knew the way home.

The night air on his face, slightly cool and damp tonight, really did refresh him, and as Ed walked, his head began to clear a little. He wasn't sure of the time, and he had already reached for his pocket watch before remembering that he didn't have it anymore. Cursing himself silently for forgetting, he kept walking. There was a clock in the next square.

Despite the fact he was probably going to feel like the walking dead tomorrow, Ed couldn't help but chuckle, knowing it had to feel a whole lot better than what he'd experienced! The war was over, he'd made good on his promise to Havoc, and he hoped Winry would forgive him for covering the whole bar tab for the three of them! Still, it made a satisfactory end to things.

When he reached the next square, the clock read one in the morning. Or at least, Ed thought it did, he squinted in the lamp light to make out the numbers that refused to cooperate. Half way home a light mist started to fall. The cool breeze that came with it felt nice against his skin. Anything that wasn't desert air felt good though. He felt cool on the surface, but warmed inside. It was interesting. He'd been drunk before; but never quite like this. He'd had too much on accident a couple of times, he'd drunk to forget when he was younger once, and he'd drunk to deal with the pain of battlefield wounds in Drachma, but he'd never been the wild teenager, the reckless kid shoving it to the world; and he'd never been a regular soldier. He'd been drunk; he'd never been completely _soaked!_

What made it funny was that it was the most relaxed he'd felt in months; and he hadn't really been expecting it! It was an interesting reaction, given his usual penchant for being more melancholy and focused if he drank more than a glass or two of anything. Less than that did little. He wondered absently what Alphonse would have to say on the subject, but decided it might be better just not to ask him.

The hour it took to get home did a lot to clear his head, and Ed could feel himself sobering up as he walked. That was the main part of why he'd done it really. He wasn't sure Winry would understand, and coming home still as lit as they'd been at the bar wouldn't sit well, even if it was a one time deal!

The house was dark when he got home, though the porch light was on. Quietly, Ed unlocked the door and went in. He hung up the light jacket he'd been wearing, and turned for the stairs. At the top of them, two sets of little dog eyes glowed, then vanished. He smiled.

Winry was in bed when he got in, and the clock on the wall read a little past two. Trying to be as silent as he could, Ed stripped, sliding into bed gently and cuddling up next to her. He felt relaxed, relieved, and surprisingly stress free. He couldn't resist a kiss to her cheek.

In his arms, Winry stirred and opened her eyes, looking up at him. "You're home," she commented softly. "What time is it?"

"Don't ask," Ed whispered, kissing her again. She felt good in his arms; right, the way he knew it should be, and she wasn't resisting. In fact, Winry seemed all too willing. They didn't speak again that night, but in the dark, for the first time in far too long, Edward Elric made love to his wife.

* * *

"I Guess last night's little 'alchemy experiment' didn't turn out so hot did it?" Winry smirked as she stood over him.

"Please, Winry, just go away and let me die," Ed groaned, his head buried under the pillows. They did little to muffle her voice.

"Sorry, can't do that," she pulled the pillows off him and morning light flooded in. Even with his eyes shut, it seemed too bright.

"Damn it!" Ed blinked and looked up at his wife. "Can't a guy get a little sympathy?"

Winry rolled her eyes. "Oh please, Edward. I know you made a promise to Havoc, but did you really have to take it this far?"

"Why are you complaining?" Ed smirked despite his pounding head. "You got something out of it too didn't you?"

The pillows slammed back into his face. "That's not the point, you idiot!" she huffed.

"You weren't saying that last night." Yeah, his mouth at least was in rare form this morning! Ed had the feeling he was going to be in trouble for this more later, but right now the familiar banter felt good, so he didn't much care!

Winry sighed, and sat down next to him on the bed. "Last night was like one of my dreams," she admitted, then poked him in the side with one finger. "Fine. But if you die, I'm just going to have Roy come in here and torch the whole bed. It'll be easier than changing the sheets."

"Sounds fair," Ed sighed and rolled off his back and onto his side. "Do I want to know what time it is?"

"Probably not," Winry replied. "It's almost Noon."

"Oh great," Ed groaned. Of course, given how late he'd gotten home, and in what state, he shouldn't have been surprised but…"Ah hell! I was supposed to meet up with Al at ten!" He sat up, too fast, and the room spun. His stomach churned.

"If you need to vomit use this," Winry replied calmly, picking up a pot from the kitchen that had been on the floor and depositing it on the bed. "I already told Al you'd be late and that you'd call when you were available."

"Is that all you told him?"

Winry smirked meanly. "Wouldn't you like to know?" Her expression softened again after a moment though. "Did you find what you needed last night, Ed?"

"I think so," Ed shrugged, but smiled at her. "Though remind me never to make promises to Jean Havoc again."

"You could have suggested something else," Winry pointed out, resting her head on his shoulder.

Ed laughed then, though he cut off short to keep from losing what little was in his stomach. "Not really," he admitted. "It was my idea in the first place."

"Yours?" Winry moved away from him. "Whatever possessed you?"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," Ed sighed. "I'd just told them how to make a Philosopher's Stone." There, he'd admitted it. Of course, he'd said as much in his official report to Breda too, but he hadn't admitted until this moment the lowest point, in his mind, in what he had done.

Winry's eyes went wide. "You what? Why?"

"Because…" Ed winced at her expression. "That was what I offered them if they'd let the others go."

"I see." Winry worried her lip. "And they still kept you and Havoc."

"They wouldn't let him go; he wasn't one of 'my' men," Ed nodded. "It was about all I could offer as an apology."

"Well I hope he enjoyed it then," Winry sighed. "And watching you join him. Should I be asking if anything else happened last night?"

"No!" Ed jumped, and then shook his head. He doubted she meant that. "We ate dinner, drank way too much, and I walked home. You know what happened after that."

"I'd like to think the last part would have happened anyway," Winry replied with a sad smile.

"Me too." The conversation was making Ed distinctly uncomfortable now. Her last words dug at his conscience. Given his reactions only a few days before, and how jumpy he'd been if they got close to anything intimate since then, if he'd been sober last night he wouldn't have been able to handle it. It was pretty pathetic. He lay back down, hoping to ease the throbbing in his brain. "I guess I should call, Al."

"What were you two going to do anyway?" Winry asked.

Ed laughed. "Work out." He had the clear to resume light exercise, as long as he didn't overdo it, and he couldn't think of anything better than sparring with his brother, who was as good a judge of Ed's physical condition and stamina as Ed was; sometimes better.

"You enjoy doing these things to yourself, don't you?" Winry quipped, smiling as she stood up. "Sara's got lunch almost made downstairs. You should probably eat something and see how you feel before you try anything else foolish."

Ed nodded. "You're right. Sara's cooking?" he looked over at her.

Winry nodded and shrugged. "She offered and she's done it all on her own. It's a little strange; she's so much more mature all of a sudden, but it's not a bad change."

"She's not a kid anymore," Ed put his own feelings on it into words. "Sara's a young woman, Winry, like you were. She's more mature than most girls, and now she's got a little more perspective. Compared to what she's seen, helping out around the house probably seems like a pretty petty thing to complain about."

"You have a point," Winry agreed. Ed knew the words struck a nerve; Winry had grown up fast too, if in different ways and for different reasons. Her choice of being an auto-mail engineer hadn't left room for foolishness, carelessness, or acting much like a child. "She's like us."

"And that's a good thing," Ed smiled. "Because it means she's a survivor. For every challenge thrown her way, she'll come out stronger for it. She won't just take the cards she's handed; she'll reshuffle things and draw until she gets the hand she wants."

"Says the man who used to cheat his little brother at cards," Winry chuckled.

Ed smirked. "Hey, there's no rule in life against fixing the deck!"

**May 11****th****, 1941**

The workout ended up getting rescheduled for Monday afternoon. Ed had decided that even attempting it as hung over as he'd been would have been a disaster. While he didn't explain anything beyond how he 'wasn't feeling well' to his brother, from the sound of amusement on the other end he had his suspicions that Winry had already told him why.

"Even if she hadn't," Alphonse teased him when they met up that afternoon, "Havoc and Breda showed up in the office today, just to hang out." Like Ed, they were both still on leave, though Breda's wasn't medical, just well earned vacation.

"Oh no," Ed groaned. "Tell me they didn't."

"Oh they did," Al laughed. "And quite the tale it was too, Brother. Did you know you drank both of them under the table? Havoc said he hasn't been that sick in years. Though he said you're a half decent singer when you loosen up a little."

Oh well. There went any hope of keeping that little misadventure a secret! "Just tell me Roy wasn't listening."

"Oh Roy apparently knew you guys were meeting up," Al shrugged. "Breda mentioned it to him ahead of time I guess. He had money on you; made quite a bit too."

"He what?" Roy had been _betting_ on him? "What was the bet?"

Al rattled off the betting pool. "Apparently Feury thought you were too sensible to go through with it. Falman thought you'd make it four shots tops, and Mustang just bet that you'd outlast both of them."

"And Havoc really didn't want to lose I'll bet," Ed shook his head. Damn it! "Remind me to give him a pounded head in exchange for the one he gave me the other night!"

"You didn't have to do it, Ed," Al was still chuckling. "Though Havoc did say he appreciated you keeping your word."

"I'm sure he did." Ed's temper bleed off, and he smiled. "All right then. I am dying to get a little action in here! Let's work. The afternoon's wasting away!"

Al nodded and got into his usual starting stance. "Hit me with your best shot," he teased. "And I don't mean liquor."

"Oh no worries," Ed grinned, charging in. "Though I can't promise it won't hurt later!"

**May 14****th****, 1941**

He was healing up, Ed knew that, but it took a lot of his energy, so he often found himself napping at random times of the day, usually after eating. Which meant it really could be anytime during the day! Naps were more enjoyable; usually if he dreamed, they were pretty good ones then.

Today's was no exception. In the dream, he was strolling along a country lane in Resembool. The day was sunny and cool, with thick fluffy clouds scattered across the sky. Everything was green, and Den – Winry's old dog – walked beside him. In the distance he could hear laughter and the chirping of birds. He sat down under a tree and pulled out a package; unwrapping a slice of apple pie and nibbling at it. He leaned back against the tree and closed his eyes…

And something slammed into his stomach. With a start, he swung out at whatever it was, and his hand connected.

_:"You should cooperate. If you did, I wouldn't have to do this.":_

There was a thump, and a startled cry.

Ed's eyes popped open. He was sitting up, panting! He looked over and silently cursed himself as he saw Ethan, sitting on the floor, eyes wide in fear and tears streaming from them. "Hell." Ed scrambled off the couch and kneeled down. "I'm sorry, kiddo. Are you all right?"

Ethan rubbed his eyes and nodded an affirmative. "That hurt."

"I know," Ed pulled him into a hug. "I'm sorry. You just surprised me." On the floor, he could see one of Ethan's toy cars. Likely the offending item that had freaked him out. Guilt consumed him as he soothed his son. This was messed up! It needed to stop.

**May 16****th****, 1941**

"You know you don't have to sleep in every Saturday," Winry teased as Ed peeked out from under his pillows.

"Might as well enjoy it while I can," he commented, offering up a grin he didn't entirely feel. The truth was, he wasn't sleeping well at night. Most of his best sleep came after dawn or in cat naps during the day. He wasn't exactly afraid of the dark, but the night time hours did not lend themselves to restful sleep for him anymore.

"Well don't forget you promised to take Aldon and Ethan with you when you go over to Al's later," she reminded him. A playful finger-poke to the ribs was met with a resounding growl from Ed's stomach. She sighed, and poked him again.

"What's that for?" Ed asked, grumbling softly. He really wanted another couple of hours of sleep.

"Our grocery bill's gone up by half and your ribs are still sticking out," Winry noted. "Not that I'm complaining," she added afterwards. "I just worry."

"I'll be fine," Ed sighed. He'd appreciate it if she'd stop commenting. It wasn't as if he wasn't trying! Not that it required trying to eat on his part just, apparently, for it to stick enough for him to regain all the weight and muscle he'd lost. "It just takes time." Maybe he could distract her. Without warning he sat up, grabbed Winry, and flipped her up onto the bed. "Which we seem to have a little of."

Winry squealed, then laughed as she landed, looking up into his eyes with startled pleasure. "Sara's at Gracia's," she informed him. "Gracia needed some help cleaning out a couple of closets." Until school was out, Sara was still grounded. Of course, the important part of that information was the fact they were alone! The boys were next door playing with Aldon's friend Ollie Larson.

Ed hadn't tried to initiate anything since their intimate late-night interlude the week before. The butterflies had returned, as had some of his self-consciousness, though he tried not to show it. It was frustrating though! "So we're alone."

"Guess so," Winry chuckled, her hands running down his chest. The marks didn't seem to bother her, and it felt great, as always.

Ed pressed his lips to hers, pinning her below him as he tried his hardest to put his insecurities out of his head. There was nothing to be bothered about; this was Winry.

She returned the kiss as eagerly as she had the other night, and before that, the first night when he had panicked. They'd taken it slow since, and Ed hadn't had any more episodes, but he'd been cautious. He was sick of that though. If they had done it last week, there was no reason they couldn't now.

Winry's hands raked lightly down his back and he groaned. Winry chuckled, though she didn't break the kiss. The urgency of her amorousness was still not something he was used to. His long absence – and possible death – had taken its emotional toll on her as well. Ed was more furious for those in Xing in some ways for what they had done to Winry than what they had done to him.

_:"Perhaps we are torturing the wrong person," the male voice sounded smug. Visually, the image danced, it was vague and unclear exactly who stood above Ed. It sounded, briefly, like Roy Mustang but with a cheesy accent. "We should try someone more…malleable." And then Winry was there, her hands bound and mouth gagged, the way she had been by Barry the Chopper when they were younger, when Ed had nearly been killed before…:_

"Gah!" Ed felt himself launch backwards and missed the side of the bed, careening off and landing first on his rear, then slamming the back of his head into the wooden floor. The pain was sudden, intense, but it jarred him back to reality. He swallowed; his heart pounding so hard he could feel it in his ears, his fingers, and his toes. He gasped, trying to breathe, to bring it all back into focus.

"Edward!"

He blinked a few times to clear the spots that danced in his vision, and looked up where Winry was staring over the edge of the bed, eyes wide. He should say something to let her know he was all right. "Ouch."

Winry scrambled off the bed and offered him her hand. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," Ed lied. "I just…" What could he say? I just remembered you being tortured? It hadn't happened. He knew that. Even at the time he had been skeptical of what he was seeing. At least until the screaming started. He couldn't tell her that sometimes just being hugged seemed constricting enough that it almost sent him into panic attacks. He gripped her hand tightly.

Winry was clearly not convinced. "So what happened?"

"Sensitive spot," he said the first plausible excuse that came to mind. "Just startled me." He couldn't tell her what he'd really seen. She'd feel bad about it, or nag. It wasn't anything serious; just a bad memory with really lousy timing.

"Oh, sorry," Winry blushed a little and helped him sit up. "I'll be more careful next time."

"Thanks." Next time, right. But when would that be?

**June 3****rd****, 1941**

"You called me in here for this?" Ed exclaimed, staring at Roy over his desk at HQ as if he were completely mad. "A few months out of commission and you want to get rid of me?"

"I didn't say that, Fullmetal," Roy sighed. "It's an offer of full retirement, or extended leave. If I wanted you gone, it would have been medical discharge and you know it."

"Why can't I just come back to work?" Ed asked. What was going on here? He'd been looking forward to getting back to something that more resembled normalcy; to getting back into his classes and working with his students. "I'm fine! All my tests check out. Talk to Stevenson!"

"I have," Roy replied, looking down at his desk a moment before meeting Ed's gaze with a hard one of his own. "But you forget yourself. Or rather, you forget me. It's been a long time since then, but I've been in a war zone. Can you honestly tell me, that after _months_ as a prisoner of war, you're ready for this? I'm your superior officer, Edward. I've seen the reports: the official debriefing you and Havoc gave Breda, Armstrong's report from your rescue, and the testimony and medical records from the doctors who treated you."

Ed's temper flared. "You always throw your experience in my face at the lamest times, you know that?" he snapped. "I can handle this! The Councilor says I'm okay right?" He knew he'd checked out there!

"He does," Roy nodded, but he looked unconvinced. "Men like us, we're different aren't we, Ed?" he steepled his hands in front of his face. "We don't hesitate in the face of death. No one can break us because we're too damned stubborn." He bent then and stood. "But we're awfully good at breaking ourselves down when it's all over aren't we? I know you, Ed. I'm the one who planted the idea and connived to get a mutilated kid to come to Central and join the military as a State Alchemist aren't I? I remember how you reacted to Tucker's daughter; and your reaction to Barry the Chopper's murder victim. You remember the one?"

Ed bit his lip, but nodded, remembering all too well and getting damned sick of the lecture! "Get to the point, Mustang."

Roy continued, moving across the back of his office. "I've used you again and again, and it's not something I'm proud of; tossing you into situations every time I need it, because it's like a trick you know will work every time: a magic spell. But it's not fair to you. When we're young, it's amazing how resilient we are, isn't it?" He seemed to be talking half to himself now, but that was Roy's way. He looked up once more at Ed. "Tell me this, Ed, if you want to come back so badly. Have the nightmares stopped? Have the flashbacks? Can you look your kids in the face and tell them straight out that there's nothing wrong with you?" He scowled. "If I had to order it tomorrow, would you be able to go back out to the front?"

Until the last one Ed probably could have lied convincingly; and even believed it himself, but his open mouth snapped shut. He hadn't told anyone about the flashbacks, not even Al. Winry suspected, he was sure, but he didn't think she'd tell anyone about it. He hoped anyway; that one time had been too embarrassing. Roy could have been guessing, but Ed knew he wasn't. Over the years, they had talked a lot about their experiences. The third comment, about his kids, felt like a cheap shot, and the fourth comment… No. Ed knew without a doubt that there was no way he was fit for that kind of duty. His nerves were still shot, he still jumped at shadows, and he knew he didn't have the perspective on it right now to be any good in that kind of fight. Physically, he still couldn't handle those kinds of rigors either. He shook his head and looked away. "No," was all he said. It seemed enough.

Roy nodded, sighing. "I'm really sorry, Ed. I feel responsible for a lot of what happened; and abusing what I know of you because it's necessary. Please, don't argue with me on this. I can't let you come back right now, not with a clean conscience. Take one option or the other, but choose."

"Why me?" Ed asked, still shaken. He was angry, he was hurt, and for the first time in a long while, he wanted to slug Roy Mustang in the face.

"I made the same offer to Havoc you know," Roy said quietly. It wasn't really an answer to the question.

"And I'll bet he laughed at it," Ed snorted. "It's a lousy joke, Mustang."

Roy shook his head. His reply was surprisingly soft. "He took it, Ed. He took the out when I offered it."

That….floored him and knocked any wind Ed had in him right out. "Jean retired?"

Roy nodded. "He thanked me, said he'd had enough; he couldn't handle the job anymore. He wanted to travel a little, meet a few girls," he snorted at the last, but it sounded half-hearted.

"But…" Throughout the entire ordeal, it had been Havoc cracking jokes, smarting off and teasing him, always the strong one, always positive, finding some way to prod him into action, or at least, reaction.

"He said something else," Roy continued. "He said watching what they did to you was what kept him going."

"What?" Ed stared at him, not fully comprehending. Watching him get beat down, day after day? "How?"

"He didn't want to see them win," Roy's eye met Ed's with an even stare. "He knew what they were after, and who the only person was they could get that information from. He didn't want to see you beaten, Ed. Not just because of the war, but because you're friends."

Friends, yeah. Ed still recalled the time Jean had referred to him a 'useless teen with a grumpy ass attitude.' But he'd always offered good advice, surprisingly, when he did offer it, and Havoc was a good officer, always had been. And later, when Ed and Al had returned, his relationships with the others who were a part of Mustang's 'team' had grown into real friendships, when they could work together more as equals, despite differences in rank.

And now, after all that, Jean Havoc was leaving the military.

"I'll take extended leave," Ed replied after a moment. He didn't even want to talk it over with Winry. He couldn't leave now. If he did, than those alchemists from Xing had beaten him after all.

* * *

Ed didn't feel like going home. It was late in the afternoon as he walked out the doors of Central HQ. He knew Alphonse had probably already gone home for the day to Elicia and the kids. That was fine with him too. While he was enjoying sparring with his brother, it was harder to talk to him lately. There were so many questions Al had that Ed had answers to, but didn't want to say. And it wasn't so much that Al asked them, but that Ed knew his brother well enough to know what he wasn't asking out of consideration for Ed's privacy. It made things awkward, and Ed hated having that distance from his brother.

But there was someone he could talk to without worrying about all of that, he realized. There was someone who knew every morbid detail of his captivity, and his torment, and hadn't treated him differently because of it.

Ed stopped at a public phone and picked up the receiver. He had to think for a moment, but it was only that before he remembered Jean Havoc's phone number.

* * *

"So why'd you really do it?" Ed asked Havoc a couple of hours later. They were sitting at the bar near HQ. Ed had invited him out to talk. He knew he needed to talk to someone! "Take the out I mean?"

Havoc shrugged and smiled over his beer, the ever-present cigarette having returned to his silhouette, dangling from one side of his mouth. "I figure I've done by the military for over thirty years," he replied. "Now the military's offering to do by me. I'm just done, Ed. That's all. I've pulled my load and done my share. Now, I get to spend a little time enjoying the rewards." He took a puff, exhaled, and then drank. "Retirement's enough to set me at ease now, and living easy too. I can travel; see a little of this country we've been protecting, maybe Creta and Aerugo too, since we haven't had any problems with them in a while." He chuckled wryly. "I hear there are some really pretty girls out there. Maybe I'll finally follow your stellar example and find one that'll put up with me."

"Funny," Ed drank from his own glass. "I almost slugged Roy for even offering. He should know me better by now."

"I think he does," Havoc said then, and his face was serious. It was a little unsettling. "You should take it, Ed. You've put your ass on the line for this country more times than almost anyone. You don't have anything left to prove.. You're the frickin' Fullmetal Alchemist. If anyone deserves to bask in the glory and spend the rest of his days with his family and a little kick-back time, it's you."

"I can't believe I'm hearing this from you," Ed snorted, rolling his eyes. "But I'm not going to wash up now. I'm not going to go out like this."

"Like what?" Havoc frowned then shrugged. "No one's going to think less of you for knowing when to bail when you can."

"I'm not a rat and this isn't a sinking ship," Ed retorted, finishing his drink. "I'm not finished until I'm not needed anymore."

"And it drives you up the wall that you might not be. Is that it?" Havoc really knew how to hit his buttons. "If you go by that logic, you'll just be doing this over and over again, Ed. Mission after mission, job after job, until it kills you. And I know that's not what you want."

This wasn't going the way Ed had expected. He shrugged, and grinned at Havoc then. "Maybe you're right," he tried to lighten things up a little. The evening didn't have to be a total loss. "Thanks for the perspective."

"No problem," Havoc replied, smiling as if Ed had finally seen sense. "Since we're here anyway, have another on me. Might as well get a little enjoyment out of the evening right?"

Ed chuckled. "Sure, why not. I couldn't have said it better myself."

**June 4****th****, 1941**

Ed tried to close the door as quietly as possible. The house was dark. He hadn't really meant to be out so late, but he and Jean had kept talking, had a couple more drinks, and the next thing Ed knew it was after midnight. He'd made the walk home as fast as possible.

As he hung his coat up a lamp came on in the living room, and Winry was standing there in her night gown and bathrobe. "I was beginning to wonder if you were ever coming home," she replied, obviously cross and also worried. She approached him. "Where were you?"

"Sorry," Ed smiled, holding out an arm and pulling her into a hug before she could argue. "I got to talking and completely lost track of time."

"Who with?" Winry asked suspiciously. "Not Mustang. I know for a fact you left his office hours ago, and Al hadn't seen you when I called."

"Havoc," Ed replied. "We were talking about why Mustang called me in."

"I see." Winry looked at him. "Why was that anyway?"

Ed didn't really want to tell her, but he'd just brought it up himself. He shrugged. "He offered me retirement or extended leave. I told him I'd take leave of course."

"Oh." Winry said, stepping back a little so she didn't have to turn her head to meet his eyes. "And he offered Jean the same?"

Ed nodded. "He took retirement. I wanted to ask him about it. I'm sorry I was late. I meant to call." He'd meant to call several times in fact, but he kept forgetting. "It just helps to talk to someone who really gets it. I hope you understand."

Winry sighed and leaned against him again, letting him enfold her in another hug. "I guess I do," she replied softly. "It's just strange still that, for once, it isn't me."

"It's strange for me too," Ed replied, kissing her forehead. "Can I make it up to you in some way?" His tone implied he had some idea as to options!

"You're not going to get jumpy on me again are you?" Winry asked cautiously. It was obvious she wanted to believe him.

"Not at all," Ed chuckled. He was feeling pretty solid after chatting with Havoc; more relaxed. "Though I was thinking a little change of venue might be nice," he took a few steps forward, guiding her back into the living room. "After all, we have a very nice couch."

It was a satisfying end to a long evening. Ed showered afterwards and then collapsed into bed beside Winry, who had already curled up and gone to sleep. He wondered as he drifted off too, why sometimes it was just so easy, and others practically impossible. He got a restful nights sleep too; without any dreams or, more importantly, nightmares that he remembered in the morning. That was just fine with him!

**June 5****th**** – July 20****th****, 1941 **

The change was gradual, but it didn't take long before Sara began to get suspicious. She might have noticed sooner if her grounding hadn't ended with the end of school, and she was allowed to visit with friends again. She spent more time hanging out with Maes Mustang, and with her friends from school. She sparred with Uncle Al and her father too when the timing worked out, but she spent some time at the military headquarters too with her uncle, where she was allowed –under his and Armstrong's supervision – to get a wider range of physical training, as well as sitting in on some of the more academic alchemy lessons. It was fascinating stuff – some of it review for her – but she absorbed all of it. If she had been home more, she would have known. At least she felt that she would have figured out faster that something was definitely wrong.

Her first real clue that something was amiss was when things seemed to return to normal almost overnight. Or at least, they appeared that way on the surface. Her mother stopped looking worried most of the time, and her father's moods seemed to shift. He stopped jumping when Aldon or Ethan woke him too suddenly from a nap, and while he was stuck at home, he played with the boys more and poured over his alchemy books.

Dad started getting out a little more too, which she thought was good at first. He had friends after all, even if he wasn't working. He made sure to let Mom know when he'd be gone too, so she didn't fret about it.

Their house was usually pretty clean now with all three kids old enough to help with the chores – admittedly, Ethan was still almost more hindrance than help – but it was one night when Sara came down late for a glass of water that she noticed a glass on the drying rack after she knew she'd emptied it right before bed. Of course, it wasn't as if her parents went to bed immediately. Sara had started making a point of staying in her room unless she wanted to overhear the muffled sounds of her parents across the hall at interesting hours!

But on other evenings, the glass was still there. It wasn't really the exact same glass of course, but there was always just one. Then, one night, there was that 'just one' sitting by the sink, not yet rinsed. Feeling a little foolish, Sara picked it up and sniffed at it.

Sara started paying more attention to the goings on around the house.

* * *

"Hello?" Winry said into the phone. "Oh hi, Al. What's up?"

Sara was curled up on the couch again reading through another alchemy book. She was having a little difficulty with transmuting some types of cloth and was hoping for some tips. When she heard her uncle's name, she perked up.

"No, Ed's not here. He's out." Winry sounded mildly annoyed. But then, she was probably getting a little tired of Sara's father's more frequent disappearances in the evenings. "With Jean Havoc. I'm sure you know where to find him if you need him. No, I didn't know you had plans. I'll remind him when he gets home."

Her Dad had forgotten about plans with Uncle Al? That didn't sound right. Sara wasn't stupid either. While she was usually fast asleep before her Dad came home, she wasn't naive enough to miss the trend.

* * *

Then one night, two days after Ethan's fourth birthday party, she realized that she had actually seen the glass several times in the past before it made it to the sink. It was evening and Ed was sitting at the table, books in front of him, taking notes. A glass was sitting next to him, about half full.

On an impulse Sara knew might very well get her in big trouble she slipped up behind her Dad and grinned. "Hey, Dad! What are you working on this time?"

Ed looked up at her with a smile. "Just a little project," he shrugged. "A couple of these old methods seem inefficient, so I'm trying to streamline them a little."

"Oh okay," Sara leaned on his shoulders and, as she had often done in her childhood, she grabbed for his glass to take a sip.

Her hand never got there as Edward's left smacked down on the table.

Sara jumped. "Hey!" she pouted. "You let me do that all the time when I was little." Actually, it was the reaction she had been expecting.

"Sorry," Ed pulled his arm back. "It's not a kid's beverage."

'Yeah Dad,' Sara thought but didn't dare say. 'I'd kind of figured that out.'

* * *

For Edward, the change was far too simple. Perhaps the saddest irony was that it was entirely a conscious decision. He was an alchemist. It didn't take him long to logic out that it was only on those nights he'd been out with Havoc, or Havoc and Breda, that he'd had the confidence to sleep with his own wife. He'd have thought, after doing it a couple of times, it would be easier and he'd get over his anxieties about his injuries, it wouldn't matter. Yet it didn't quite work that way.

The correlation that it was the alcohol wasn't a hard one to make. It didn't take long to find the balance either. While it focused his conscious thoughts, whatever he was thinking about, he also found that it staunched a lot of the subconscious and unconscious. It filtered his dreams and kept the worst of the nightmares at bay. Finding how much it took at that point was a simple matter of calculations and a little trial and error.

During the day Ed was mostly fine he discovered, as long as he didn't spend too much time on the horizontal plane. It was usually only especially bad if he got pinned underneath something or someone. Besides, he could deal with the flashbacks as long as he wasn't up close to someone, and the sleep helped.

Most of all, the decision and the actions that followed came from the burning need to make his family whole again; to stop their worries and fears, to wipe the guilt from his mind. The last thing he wanted was to go on causing his family pain.

The routine just kind of happened. Ed actually enjoyed talking to Havoc when they weren't chained up together day after day. His stories were amusing, his jokes a little crude perhaps, but it was a relief from the house, from boredom…from himself. They started getting together once, then twice a week. Breda joined them about a quarter of the time, but he was already back into the full swing of life, done with his post-war leave and back to work, and to his fiancée who was eagerly planning their wedding!

Ed had come to know what an evening out with Havoc would involve. It was almost like a dance. He'd order a drink, they'd chat. Havoc would insist on buying the next round. Usually Ed would eat something. There'd be another round. If nothing else, he knew he'd have a good time, drink a little too much, and get home late. It was pleasantly predictable.

What was interesting was how Winry had stopped complaining about it. She wasn't stupid; she had to know, but instead of calling him on it, she never said a word.

That only made Ed feel guiltier about the whole thing.

Still, it was a simple balancing act. Aside from his nights out, when he knew well enough he was drinking to excess, a glass or two in the evening was usually enough to calm his nerves from the jumps and starts of the day, and quell the worst of his anxieties about intimate contact. He and Winry spent more time together in that sense then they ever had before really. She seemed to crave the contact, and it was a release for him.

It was easier than talking.

**July 21****st****, 1941**

Sara hated to do it, but she figured the person she really needed to talk to was her mother. If Winry hadn't noticed what was going on, Sara would have been amazed. What she didn't understand was why her mother seemed willing to ignore it.

"Hey Mom," she spoke up the next afternoon, while her Dad had taken Aldon and Ethan out for a bit; something about playing catch and ice cream sundaes. "Can we talk?"

Winry was in her workshop, totally focused on an auto-mail leg she was designing. Despite the fact she had several employees at this point, she never seemed to run out of work. She waved Sara in. "Of course." She turned to go back to her work.

"It's about Dad."

At that, Winry hesitated momentarily. If Sara hadn't spent so much time 'watching' people lately, especially with her experiences on the front, she would probably have missed it. She was more aware now though. Her Mom was already on her guard. "What about him?" she asked.

"Haven't you noticed he's been drinking more lately?"

At that, Winry put down the leg before reaching for her screwdriver. "A little," she replied, almost too casually.

"Don't you think it's a little, well, strange?"

Winry sighed. "He's a grown man, Sara. He can take care of himself."

"But Mom—"

"Look," Winry straightened up and turned around to face her, one hand on her hip, a wrench still in the other. "I know you think you know a lot; and you've grown a lot in the last few months," she admitted, "But this is something I don't think you're ready to understand."

Sara bit her lip, and stifled her reply. Her Mom wasn't going to listen to her. Or at least, she wouldn't do anything about it. She sighed. "Sure, Mom. You're probably right. Sorry I bothered you."

**July 23****rd****, 1941**

The more time moved on, and the further behind them the war got, Sara found herself seeking out her Uncle Alphonse's company more and more. The closeness she had felt with her father when they had first gotten home seemed gone; and she didn't want to bother him either. But she knew she had to do something!

She could talk to Alphonse. He still listened to her. So when she met up with him for an afternoon workout – something else she did more with her Uncle than her father these days – she decided to try bringing up her concerns about Dad to him instead.

The sparring session ended with Sara doing a mid-air somersault that sent her up and over her uncle's head, coming down and spinning for a final blow, to find it blocked as he moved fast enough to come around and catch her hand, flipping her to the ground. "Darn it!" she snapped in frustration as she lay on the grass in Al's back yard. "So close."

"You're improving," Al grinned as he offered her a hand up. "But Ed's been pulling that one on me for years. I can anticipate it."

"Thanks," Sara rubbed her head as she used his hand as leverage to sit up, but didn't bother to get up off the ground immediately. "He was supposed to teach me a variant on it."

Al's expression softened and he dropped down on the grass next to her. "You want to talk?"

Sara gave him a sad smile. "That obvious, huh?"

"Usually is," Al offered a sympathetic smile in return.

Well, now seemed as good a time as any. Sara sighed. "I think Dad's self-medicating."

Al's smile turned into a concerned frown. "What do you mean?"

Sara felt like a tattle-tale but she knew that, sometimes, there were things that needed to be said. She plucked at the grass as she spoke. "Well aside from the obvious," she snorted. "Like when he comes home drunk from his nights out with Colonel…sorry, Jean Havoc. I don't think there's been an evening in a month he hasn't had a drink." She felt a little stupid as she said it. She knew well enough that a lot of people had a drink in the evening to relax, or one or two at parties. But after watching the soldiers she'd made friends with, she had a better idea of the mentality. She also knew that if it wasn't normal behavior, that kind of change usually signified a problem. Her father had never been one of those people.

"How much is he drinking?" Al asked. To his credit, he didn't dismiss her right off. That in itself was encouragement.

"Usually just one glass," Sara replied. "Though lately sometimes it's two. Not something low point either."

"You're pretty observant," Al commented.

"I've been…spying on him," Sara admitted, feeling a twinge of shame. It was like she was informing on her father. She felt a little like a traitor.

"Keeping track of someone you love when you think there's a problem isn't something to be ashamed of," Al replied, putting an arm around her shoulder and giving her a much needed squeeze of reassurance. "I'm sure if he's still getting over things, Winry's talking to him."

"I don't think so," Sara replied sadly, shaking her head, her braid bouncing. She'd taken to wearing her hair braided more. It looked more grown up, but the more intricate braid she used was distinctively different from her father's. "I tried to talk to Mom about it, and she told me Dad could handle himself. I've been watching them, Uncle Al. They interact, but I don't think they really talk anymore. I think Mom's afraid she'll say the wrong thing, and Dad just won't say anything. He doesn't even really talk to me much anymore outside of day to day stuff."

Al's frown was deepening with every word. "I'll talk to Winry," he said after a moment. "He hasn't talked to me much lately either."

Sara looked up at him startled. "But…"

"I know," Al nodded. "I want to find out what's going on, but I have a pretty good idea."

**July 24****th****, 1941**

The next afternoon, Alphonse made a point of showing up at Rockbell Auto-mail right before lunch to see if Winry wanted eat and talk. She seemed surprised, but agreed. They went to a little café not far from the shop. The talk was fairly light hearted until their food came.

Winry picked at her salad, but she didn't seem to have much of an appetite. "What did you want to talk about, Al?" she asked finally, though he got the feeling she knew already, or at least suspected.

"I wanted to see how you were holding up," Al replied. "And find out how Ed's doing. Outside of workouts a couple of times a week, if that, it seems like I barely see him." He tried to keep his tone lighter, but he knew Winry could tell he was worried.

Winry looked away. "What's to say?" she said finally.

Al sighed. "Don't do this, Winry. It's not like you; making excuses and avoiding the problem. I know Ed's not himself, and I can't do anything about it without some idea of what's going on."

"It…it's like his body came home, Al," Winry said finally after a couple of minutes of silence. "But I'm not sure the rest of Edward ever did." A tear ran down her cheek, glinting in the sunlight that came through the window. "He's here, and he's going through the motions, but he's not the same. And I don't mean the 'war changes people' kind of different. We both know Ed's too strong and stubborn for any regular conflict to break him down." More quiet tears followed. "I tried to talk to him, Al. Really I did. But I don't know what to say to him anymore. He doesn't want to talk about what they did to him, or his feelings. I know he's hurting but I don't think I can help him."

"Winry," Al's heart ached as he watched her. How had it come to this? "It'll be all right. I just need to know what's going on. Someone needs to pound a little sense into my brother, and if it's not you, it'll be me."

Winry looked up at him, and tried – but failed – to smile through the tears. "He can barely stand to be touched unless he's drunk," she said bitterly, wiping at her face with her napkin. "He's trying not to be obvious, but even Sara commented about it to me."

"She told me," Al admitted.

Winry sighed and continued. "He has panic attacks if something surprises him, or catches him in the wrong place." She didn't elaborate, and Al didn't need to ask. "He still has nightmares too I think, but he just kind of whimpers now. He used to thrash pretty badly and wake himself up."

"Sara said he didn't talk about much of anything to her."

Winry nodded. "To any of us: at least, nothing of consequence. Not since he took the extended leave Roy offered him." She shook her head and looked up. "I don't see how he'll ever be fit to go back, Al. Not like this. Though he says that's what he wants. He'll take the boys out and do things; but he's almost avoiding Sara. I don't think he even exercises when he doesn't go over and spar with you."

"Which hasn't been much lately," Al sighed. His brother was usually raring to go when he came off of forced inactivity. Of course, he was only supposed to be doing light exercises to encourage muscle building while he was trying to regain all of the muscle mass he'd lost, but Al was beginning to wonder if Ed was even getting that much. What else had he missed while he gave his brother a little privacy? "I'll talk to him, Winry. Someone's got to intervene before things get any worse, and find out exactly what we're dealing with."

**July 25****th****, 1941**

Alphonse's opportunity came the very next evening. He heard from Winry when Ed headed out to meet up with Havoc. He gave it a couple of hours, warned Elicia he'd be out late, and then headed out and started walking, easily getting to the route Ed would most likely take home, and headed in the direction of the bar. He didn't walk fast. He didn't need to. Al knew where Ed was, and roughly what time he would be heading home. It was getting that predictable.

It was just past midnight when he saw a familiar frame walk under the streetlamp about three blocks from the bar. Out of sight of anyone else, Ed was weaving slightly. That wasn't good. Taking a deep breath, Al sauntered out of the shadows. "Hey, Brother," he called out, trying to sound casual.

Ed stopped, looked in his direction, and smirked. "A little past your bedtime, isn't it, Alphonse?" he teased.

"Yours too," Al replied with a shrug as he walked right up to him and stopped just close enough that Ed had to tilt his head a little to look him in the eyes. "This seems like the only time to catch you not busy lately, so I figured I'd give it a shot."

Ed snorted, and Al could smell his breath. "Don't bother," Ed replied, frowning accusingly. "I already know what you're going to say."

"And how do you know that?" Al didn't want this to be any more confrontational that in had to be.

His brother's expression twisted into a bitter smile. "Because Winry and I had a fight about it this morning."

"You did?" She hadn't mentioned that to Al on the phone! Well, that complicated things. "What did you fight about, Ed?"

"Oh don't act like you don't know," Ed got up in his face, hands in his pockets, his stance more than a little cocky. He looked like a pissed off rooster; all he needed was tail feathers "Let me guess," he sneered. "You're worried about me. I'm not acting like myself. If I'd just talk about my damned problems so everyone understood than everything would be all okay again, right?"

"You're a jerk when you're drunk, Ed," Al scowled. "You know that right?"

"You think I'm drunk?" Ed scoffed. "You weren't here last week."

"You're right, I wasn't." His words stung more than Al had expected. "Because I wasn't invited. You're avoiding me, just like you're hiding from Winry."

Ed shoved him and tried to move past. "Shut up, Al. You don't know what you're talking about."

Alphonse felt his own temper snap, and he let it go! "That's enough, Edward." He grabbed Ed by the collar, and his brother squeaked as he was bodily hauled off the ground, dragged into the nearby alley way and slammed up against the wall of a building. "We're going to talk about this now, if we have to do it the hard way!" He felt bad for doing it; but sometimes the only thing Ed responded to was a very direct, firm hand.

Ed was looking at him wide-eyed. "What is this, Al?!"

"This," Al's finger jabbed pointedly into his brother's stomach. Always, for as long as Al could remember, his brother had been little but lean muscle. No matter how hard they fought, wrestled, pounded on each other; his brother had almost no give to him. His brother's strength, physical stamina, and skills had been a point of pride as much as his stature had been a sore point. Now though, all Al's finger did was squish into what little flesh Ed had regained. "To train the mind, one must also train the body, right?" he tossed Izumi's words in his brother's face. "Conversely, if you neglect the mind, it's pretty easy to neglect the body too; and vice versa. Damaging one usually ends up damaging both. I know you're not stupid, Ed. So why do you insist on doing this to yourself?"

The outburst had startled his brother, but he could see Ed's resolve hardening in his eyes. "Lay off, Al! What right do you have to lecture me on anything? What the hell do you know!"  
"I know you're being stupid and stubborn," Al replied pointedly. It had been a long time since he was this furious with his brother! "You've been through a lot, Ed, more than most anyone else. No one disputes that. We've given you space, and time, and tried to be understanding while you heal and work things out. And what thanks do we get? You're not dealing with the problem at all! You're just dragging it out, and making it worse."

"Oh what do you know?" Ed repeated, unimaginatively repeating himself, and glowered, struggling against Al's hold. Right now though, he didn't have the strength to even budge Al's fingers.

Al sighed, and tried to force 'reasonable' back into his tone, though he did it through half-gritted teeth. "The longer you keep things bottled up Edward, the more they're going to fight to bubble to the surface anyway. Eventually, even with this 'fix' of yours, they'll come back. You're not dealing with the problem. You're exacerbating and prolonging it! What about Winry and Ethan and Aldon and Sara? Do you like doing this to them? To yourself? I'm not going to let you ruin the rest of your life wallowing in guilt and self pity because you won't stand up and face the fact you've got problems! Problems that could be fixed if you'd just get help!"

"Damn it, Alphonse," Ed snapped, but he looked more like he might cry. "You can be such a pain."

"That's what brothers are for," Al replied without hesitation. He was too angry with his brother to do otherwise. He eased up on his hold though; let Ed sag back against the brick behind him. He didn't let go of Ed's collar completely. "We've always been there for each other; to help out, or to beat some sense into each other when we act stupid. We look out for each other; that's how it has always worked, how we've done things. I don't remember agreeing to change the rules."

"And I didn't ask for your meddling," Ed spat back. "I'm still working things out okay! Besides, what's the big deal? It's just a few drinks."

Those were words that sounded bizarre and wrong coming out of Ed's mouth! "Have you looked in a mirror lately, Ed?" Al's mood continued to darken. It was almost like dealing with Ed when he'd been a moody teenager, but worse. "I mean really _looked_," he cut Ed off when he opened his mouth to protest. "Do you know what I see? Do you know what Winry sees? Sara? You're still not well, Edward. Your body doesn't have the stamina to get dragged through the crap you're doing to it. Not when you've never given it the chance to really rest and replenish. Taking it easy is one thing; but you don't even come over and spar anymore. You're not going to get energy back this way, or muscle for that matter. You might get a nice gut out of it if you try hard enough." The last line was bitter, sneering, and probably uncalled for; but at the moment Al was wondering if beating up his brother might not be a workable solution to the problem; at least temporarily.

At that point, Edward completely lost his temper. He shoved harder, and this time managed to slip out of Al's grip. "Consider it from someone else's point of view, Alphonse," he yelled, backing up towards the edge of the alleyway. "You try listening to everyone tell you it's 'gonna be okay,' 'everything's fine now,' 'all it takes is time.' Then get told you're not fit to work because of something that was done to you. Try going home when you get a bad case of nerves trying to cuddle with your own wife! When you can't sleep at night for the horrors waiting, and despite what they say, they don't go away!"

"You don't give things enough time Ed," Al countered. "It's only been a couple of months!"

"And while I'm 'waiting' my life is falling apart!" Ed retorted. "No matter how I am, I'm making my family miserable. How does anyone face that? You want the truth? Fine! They won! They broke me. I'm a pathetic mess, I admit it. Are you happy? Now leave me alone!" He turned and fled.

"Ed, wait!" Al hurried after him, but when he reached the street, Ed was already out of sight. Al hurried towards Ed's house first, calling for his brother, trying to catch up with him. Given Ed's weakened state, Al should have overtaken him quickly. When he didn't, he stopped running. He'd lost him. "Damn it, Ed. I just want to help you. Why won't you let us in anymore?" Thunder rolled above, and he headed back to the house, feeling more than a little deflated and just hoping that Ed would have the sense to go home.

* * *

When Winry woke up in the morning, she almost cried when she realized the bed next to her was still empty, with no indention or messed covers to indicate anyone had ever been there. So, Ed hadn't come home last night after all. After their argument yesterday – she had tried to talk to him, but she hadn't handled it well – it hurt, but she wished she were more surprised.

It was early, barely six o'clock. With a sigh, Winry pulled on her favorite house robe – a silky, lavender thing Ed had bought her as a present for her birthday a couple of years ago – and headed downstairs, listening to the patter of rain outside.

There were puddles on the floor. Looking up, Winry saw Ed's jacket – the black, short one he'd taken to wearing often the past several years when he wanted to be less obvious – hanging on the coat rack, still damp. Her first feeling was one of relief, though there was a bitter pang to realize that Ed had still chosen not to come upstairs. She wondered when he had gotten in.

Finding him was easy. Ed was passed out on the couch, his shoes lying in a puddle on the floor, and he was sprawled out on his stomach. His clothes and hair were still damp, though not freshly wet. He hadn't bothered with a blanket. With his clothes plastered against him, it was too painfully obvious that despite months of recuperation, Ed wasn't actually recovering very well. Perhaps his ribs were less obvious, his face less sunken, and she had been relieved when the bruises faded and the cuts healed. The remaining marks would take longer to fade, but at least the new skin was smooth and healthy. But he had put back on very little muscle so far. Lean was an understatement, he was still pretty scrawny, save for the area around the middle where his body was actually starting to store anything it hadn't used after eating as a shore up against further starvation. He was eating, but he wasn't taking care of himself. He was undoing all the good he'd managed to do when he first got back, and 'she' certainly wasn't doing anything that seemed to be helping his recovery.

Tears welled in her eyes. Quietly, Winry pulled a blanket over him and went into the kitchen to make tea. Alphonse had said he was going to talk to Ed last night, but she couldn't imagine that he had caught up with Ed, given the result. Or, at least, the talk couldn't have gone well.

There was a call at seven. It was Al, worried about Ed. "He's here," Winry told him softly, trying not to wake Edward. "I don't know what time he came home last night, but he's dripping wet. Did you talk to him, Al?"

"Yeah," was the very defeated sounding reply. "I don't think it helped though. He was pretty mad at me. He ran off."

"When was that?"

"Not too late after midnight," Al replied. "Are you all right, Winry?"

"Yeah," Winry sighed. "I'm okay. At least he came home. Thanks for trying, Al. Maybe today he'll be more cooperative." She sounded about as unconvinced of that as she really felt, but she said it anyway.

"I hope so," Al replied. "I'll come by later, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks again."

"Still plotting against me?"

Winry's hand froze on the phone. She turned, wide-eyed, to see Ed standing next to the couch. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair still damp and sticking up in a couple of places oddly. He looked bedraggled and from the set of his eyes she could tell he was definitely a little hung-over. "Al just wanted to make sure you got home all right," she replied.

"Sure he did," Ed frowned. "Since I'm obviously incapable of finding my own way home."

"What took you so long then?" Winry asked softly, though there was an edge to it. What was his problem anyway?

"I took the long way," Ed replied evasively. "I'm going to take a shower." With that he headed down the hall and she heard him go up the stairs.

It was an awkward, quiet morning. Ed didn't come down again until Winry had breakfast on the table. The kids seemed to sense the tension – they had fortunately not been privy to yesterday's fight – and ate quietly.

Winry watched Ed as he shoveled down breakfast with his usual efficiency. She wondered if he even registered the taste anymore as it went down.

"Doctor Stevenson's office called," she finally said into the silence. "They wanted to remind you that your appointment is tomorrow."

Ed shrugged and kept eating. "I'm not going."

"How do you figure that?" Winry frowned. "It's not like you have a choice."

"Don't I?" Ed glared at her down the table. "I don't feel like going."

"But-"

"Drop it."

So much for a simple breakfast conversation. Winry glared at him. "Are you trying to start a fight?"  
"No, why? You want me to?"

The flippant sarcasm was more than she could stand. "Don't be stupid, Edward," Winry replied sharply. "You know if you want Roy to let you back on duty you've got to be healthy."

"Then what's the point?" Ed dropped his napkin on the table and stood. "There's no way they'll pass me Winry and you know it! I'm sick of pitying looks and talking to 'councilors' and nothing but criticism."

"You've barely given yourself any time, Edward!" Winry countered. "You're too impatient."

"Yeah well, it's my life," Ed shoved his chair back and, to Winry's disbelief, left the table. "And you don't have to live with it. I'm going out."

"Edward Elric, you come back here!" Winry stood and headed for the door, but she heard it slam before she'd gone more than a few feet. Then she heard the car start up and pull away from the curb with a squeal of tires. Tears welled in her eyes. Turning around, she found all three of the kids staring, open mouthed. Ethan had tears in his eyes. Aldon just looked stunned. Sara looked furious. Winry could think of nothing to say.

* * *

Sara couldn't believe what she had just watched happen! Her father had an explosive temper, she knew that, but she'd never witnessed it come out so forcefully against his own family, not even when her parents argued. Her mother seemed frozen, stunned. Sara recovered from the shock before the others. Glowering at first, she schooled her expression into something calmer as she leaned over to Ethan next to her and started to soothe him. "It's okay. He's just cranky," she said until his sniffles stopped. Then she looked over at Aldon. "Maybe Don will let you help him with something."

Aldon nodded and forced a smile to his face, taking Sara's lead and understanding immediately. He was good at that. "Come on, Ethan. Let's go upstairs. I've got a new toy I want to show you."

"Okay," Ethan nodded and hopped down from his chair. He followed Aldon upstairs, and Sara walked up to her Mom.

"Stubborn, unreasonable…" Winry was mumbling under her breath, and Sara realized then that her mother's hands were clenched and shaking, her eyes were damp, and she was absolutely furious.

"What do we do, Mom?" Sara asked, hoping to get through to her. "I've never seen Dad like that."

"I don't know," Winry admitted, taking a deep breath and blowing it out slowly. "I have no idea where he'd go. It used to be if he was upset, he'd go talk to Alphonse, no doubts. But they argued last night too."

Sara cursed softly, and then blushed when her mother gave her a sharp look. "Sorry," she apologized. "I'm just so mad at him! Dad's told me so much about dealing with my emotions, and talking things out when it gets tough. And now he's being such a ….a hypocrite!"

Winry nodded, and looked defeated; an expression Sara could hardly stand to see on her mother's face. "I'm going to call Alphonse. We've got to find Edward and talk some sense into him before he does something else idiotic." Driving while upset and hung-over certainly counted on that list.

Sara nodded. "I'm going to finish getting dressed and see if maybe I can find him," she said. "There are a few spots we used to go to work out. Maybe he just went somewhere to think."

"That's…a good idea," Winry looked mildly startled; then she smiled. "I hope you find him."

"Me too." Sara hurried upstairs and shucked off her slippers, going immediately for her socks and running shoes. The knit shorts and t-shirt she was wearing were fine for what she was about to do. As she tied her shoes, her eyes fell on her desk and the open letter she'd received a couple of days ago.

The letter was special, and she'd read it several times since it arrived, feeling a little silly and giddy every time. It was from Private Franz Heimler: the good looking, dark haired Private Second Class who had befriended her during the short-lived war with Xing.

Pausing, she reached over and picked it up once more, and the picture that went with it. It was one her friend Lina Doran, another soldier, had apparently snapped when she wasn't looking. A candid shot of herself and Franz, out of uniform down to tank tops and pants, rinsing off one of the trucks that had gotten particularly badly crudded up with sand and dust. In the shot, Franz was spraying her with the hose and Sara was about to fling a sponge in his face. Both of them were laughing.

She liked the picture. She looked older in it, despite the playfulness of it; maybe sixteen, almost old enough to be a romantic interest for her dark haired Private. Not that she ever expected those day dreams to come to fruition! Franz was very nice, very sweet, but also almost five years older than she was. By the time she was eighteen, he'd probably be married to a pretty girl somewhere, or married to the military.

As she braided her hair, Sara reread the letter again. It had meant a lot to her lately, and she was reminded again of why by her father's behavior.

_**Hey Sara!**_

_**How's the belle of the East? I'm glad the war's over, but life's been pretty crazy. We're still stationed out East, but they've moved our unit to Eastern Command for a while. Bors hates it. Says he's got a girl back home in Central. No one believes him of course. Or rather, we're all sure he's got several! **_

_**You'll be glad to know we all made it out just fine. It was pretty quiet after you left with the Brass actually. The Major General wasn't nearly as entertaining as your father and Colonel Havoc and their shtick in the hospital tent. **_

_**Your old man is really something. I'd heard stories of course – who hasn't – but I think the genuine article is even more inspiring in person. I hope you don't mind my saying so; I know he's your dad and this might seem kind of weird! But he's really something. My dad served with him against Drachma actually, and had all sorts of stories about the Fullmetal Alchemist when he got back; fond ones too. Not just the usual heroics either, but of how he was a regular guy a lot of the time; sociable, loyal, and stubborn as rusted nails. **_

_**He was right. But seeing your Dad reminded me of mine. He made it out of the Drachma conflict with only a couple of wounds, but it was three years before he was really himself again. He had nightmares a lot, and sometimes I'd find him up late, drinking and looking at pictures of dead friends. He tried to explain it to me once; how lonely he felt, the guilt of surviving when others didn't, and how hard it had all been; why it was hard to get past. I didn't understand then. I'm starting to now though. But he always said it was your Dad's unflappable confidence and how much he cared for the men that got him through. He knew there were people out there who had survived the war, had moved on and gone home. He saw your Dad take on the Ice Alchemist. He told me that 'if Edward Elric could do it, I figured I could too' and 'you're not beaten till you're dead.'**_

_**I can only imagine what your Dad's going through right now. I hope he's healed up well and you guys are having a lot of fun this summer! Your family sounds like a great one from all your stories. You can write me back at the address on the envelope. We'll be here a while. **_

_**Fondly,**_

_**Franz Heimler**_

_**Pvt. 2**__**nd**__** Class, Amestris Eastern Command **_

_**P.S. Enclosing a picture Lina took when I wasn't looking. For some reason she thought you'd appreciate it! She sends her best and says she'll try and write when her hand stops cramping from filling out paperwork! **_

Sara blushed every time she read it, remembering the last time she had seen Franz. The night before they left, there had been a celebration and, despite her mother's glares, Sara had joined her friends for one last evening of stories and singing and enjoyment. Armed with a bottle of soda pop, and with Lina sitting by, she hadn't had to worry about inappropriate offers!

She'd ended up sitting next to Franz, and they had talked for hours. As they had both stood to go to bed, Franz had leaned over and giving her a squeeze with one arm, and a quick peck on the cheek. "Take care, Sara. It's been an honor serving with you. Maybe I'll see you around sometime."

Sara shook her head. This was not the time to be daydreaming! But Franz's words in the letter stayed with her and, on impulse, Sara folded the picture in it and stuffed it in her pocket.

Then she ran downstairs, and headed out.

* * *

Ed hadn't had a plan for where he should go when he stormed out of the house. He hadn't planned to over-react either. But his head was pounding, and his pride was still freshly wounded from being ganged up on the last two days. First Winry, then Al! Then this morning, it had just been too much.

Somehow, Ed found himself parking outside Jean Havoc's apartment. He sighed and sat there for several minutes, not really sure what to do. Finally, he figured he should just go in. Maybe his friend would have some perspective on what was happening.

If nothing else, Ed needed to relieve himself.

A very bleary-eyed Havoc blinked at him when he opened the door. "What's up, Ed?" he asked, yawning. "I'm retired remember? I don't do early."

"Yeah I know," Ed sighed. "Can I come in?"

"Uh yeah, sure," Havoc stepped out of the way. "You're lucky I don't have any beautiful guests this morning."

"Funny," Ed replied, not laughing. "I was on this end of town and I thought I'd-"

"Drop by to see if I felt as hung-over as you look?" Havoc asked, smirking as he sat down on one of the few chairs in the place and lit a cigarette.

"Use your restroom," Ed countered.

Havoc snorted. "Sure."

When Ed came out again a few minutes later, he had gone from angry to deflated. He shouldn't have run out of the house like that. All he'd done was postpone the inevitable argument for later and probably made it worse. He dropped into the chair across from Havoc and just watched him as the man finished his cigarette, then stood up.

"Coffee?" Havoc offered.

"Sure," Ed shrugged. "Though I could use something a little stronger for this head if you've got it."

"Starting a little early today, aren't we, Chief?" Havoc joked as he started the coffee brewing. Then his smirk faded as he looked at Ed's serious face. "Something wrong?"

"Alphonse and Winry are both pissed at me," Ed admitted bitterly. "I lost my temper. Figured I should cool off before I go home. So," he looked up hopefully. "How about that drink?" He knew he was weak for asking, but at the moment he really couldn't bring himself to care.

"I can't believe this is me saying this," Havoc sighed and shook his head. "But I don't think so, Ed."

"Why not?" Ed asked. Jean could have grown a second head the way Ed felt at the moment.

Havoc pulled out a fresh cigarette. "You remember when I said you make a lousy soldier?"

It had been during their captivity, but yes, Ed remembered. A lot of what he remembered from that time, sometimes all of what he remembered at points, was Havoc's sarcastic quips. "Yeah?"

"This is what I meant," Havoc closed the pack and stuck the cigarette in his mouth, but didn't light it immediately. "This isn't _you_, Edward. This isn't the man I watched tell those Xing bastards to stuff it at every opportunity, no matter what they did to him; that didn't crack and managed to get every one of his men out of a likely no-win situation alive. You risk yourself for everyone else; and you're the man who's sickeningly adorable playing with his kids in the back yard."

"Was, you mean," Ed sighed, scowling. He was pretty sure his children were scared at this point; for him or 'of' him, he wasn't sure. "I didn't come here for a lecture, Jean."

"Well you didn't come here to escape either," Havoc countered. "Let's just be straight about this, Ed. I've known you for thirty years now. You can be a stubborn ass when you want to be, but you're a sensitive guy; you care about everyone, and despite this tendency to seem selfish – like another alchemist we both know – you'll put your ass on the line for people you don't even like time and time again if you think it's the right thing to do. Even 'dear old Roy' thinks you're an alchemical genius. But," he shrugged casually, "What do I care right? I only watched you turn from a bratty kid into a frickin' State hero, and worried like everyone else when you vanished. Over and over again you defy the impossible and come out on top." The annoyed, but almost conversational tone was a strange counterpoint to the words being said. But then, that was Havoc. "I wasn't sure you could handle that promotion Mustang handed you when you got back, but I was glad to be proven wrong. You've surpassed me in spades."

"Can you get to the point?" Ed groused. He was definitely feeling very uncomfortable with all of this.

"Shut up and wait for it," Havoc said as he turned around and poured two thick cups of coffee. "Hope you like it black," he said. "I'm out of condiments unless you want it with mustard."

Ed grimaced. "Black's fine."

"Thought so," Havoc said and handed Ed the sludge.

It was fine. Ed had gotten used to lousy coffee over the years. He drank it down then looked at Havoc. "You were running through my brave achievements and insulting me at the same time. Please go on."

Havoc rolled his eyes. "My point is I've seen you beaten down Ed, plenty of times. We got a really lousy deal and went through hell out there. I'm still having nightmares about it…"

"You are?" Ed was surprised, though he couldn't say why given his own issues.

"You're interrupting again," Havoc drank from his own cup. "And yes. It's hell, but I'm coping." He gestured with the hand holding the unlit cigarette and smirked. "What I'm saying is they didn't break you, Ed. Nothing you told them was pried out of you. But you beat yourself up over stuff worse than anyone else ever could. The only one breaking you down is you." He said it so matter-of-factly; no accusation, no anger. As if to make the point, Havoc shrugged and took another drink of coffee before setting it down and lighting the cigarette.

"Says the man who's been trying to get me to 'loosen up' for half my career," Ed commented, feeling surly. Havoc hit too close to the mark.

"Be fair here," Havoc replied frowning. "You're not a kid, Ed. I don't feel any responsibility for what you decide to do or not do, but if I'd known you were going dependent on me, I'd have said something a while ago."

"I'm not dependent." Havoc had all but called him a drunk! Okay, he wasn't really wrong lately, but it wasn't like he was hooked.

"The Edward I know would never have asked for a drink at eight in the morning over a good cup of coffee."

Ed sighed, and rested his aching head in his hands. Havoc was right. He couldn't even really be mad at the man or surprised. He'd been stubbornly refusing to think about what he was doing for weeks. He'd just kept thinking that he could use it as a temporary relief until things went away: simple alchemy.

Obviously, he hadn't really been thinking at all.

"When you're done wallowing in guilt," Havoc commented. "There's more coffee."

* * *

Sara was exhausted by the time she stopped to take a break. She had run the full five mile circuit that she and her father used to make every morning, and looked in all their favorite sparring spots. The route covered a pretty decent chunk of the city actually, but when she hadn't found him she'd checked in briefly at home. Her Mom had called Alphonse with no luck, and Gracia, and even Roy Mustang, who informed her that he hadn't seen one hair of Ed's head since the day Ed had informed him he would take the extended leave over retirement.

"Not that he ever discussed that with me," Winry commented softly when she didn't think Sara was listening.

Sara took off again, heading towards military HQ. Not because she thought he'd be there, but because there were so many places along that walk that she knew where he 'might' be. He'd walked it enough these past few weeks, she thought bitterly.

The spot where she stopped was near some of the apartments she knew housed a lot of the officers who didn't live in the NCO quarters. She stopped in a little grocery market and paid for a drink of juice and water and drained both. She was hot and tired and getting irritable. She was going to throttle her father when she found him! She was going to drag him home and make him see sense!

She was…. Just hoping she found him.

Sara walked on down the street again and rounded a corner. There was the car, parked outside one of the buildings! Thank goodness but who… then she knew who her father would likely have gone to see. Frantically, she tried to remember Colonel Havoc's apartment number from when she'd helped her mother address birthday invitations and such in the past.

She thought she remembered, so she went up the stairs and found what she was pretty sure was the right door. Tentatively, she knocked.

The door creaked open and Havoc stood there looking mildly bemused.

"Colonel Havoc," Sara said firmly. "Is my father here?"

Havoc chuckled. "Hey Ed," he said, leaning back over his shoulder. "The warden's come to take you home."

Sara didn't find that funny, but she pushed past Havoc and found her Dad sitting in the man's living area, drinking something, looking as though he'd been there the entire couple of hours Sara had been looking for him. She sighed in relief. "You are in so much trouble."

"Ease off, kid," Havoc said, closing the door behind her. "We're just having a cup of coffee and talking."

"We've been looking for you for hours!" Sara exclaimed, ignoring Havoc completely, her pent up fears and frustrations getting the better of her. "I've been running all over the city! Uncle Al too, and Mom's called almost everywhere!"

"Except here," Havoc smirked.

"Sara, please," Dad's eyes looked tired, pained. At least he looked a lot more like himself than he had when he stormed out of the house. "I've been here the whole time."

"Coffee?" Havoc offered her.

Sara sighed. "Sure, thanks," she replied, crossing the room and standing over her father. "But I want to know something from you first." Her fists clenched, even though she tried to will them not to.

"Ask away." Dad sounded like he was expecting the worst.

"Why don't you ever take your own advice?"

Her father blinked and looked up at her, confused. "What do you mean?"

Sara licked her lips nervously and forced herself to keep going. "You always told me that if there was something wrong, I should talk to someone about it. That I shouldn't bottle it up inside, cause it would only get worse. That no matter what happens I should stand back up again on my feet and move forward, no matter what's passed." She hated to fling his own words in his face, but what else could she do? "You told me never to give up, and that there were no easy outs for dealing with pain: physical or emotional. I shouldn't let myself be bogged down by guilt, or let anyone else's opinion of me make me feel like less of a person."

"Yes, I—"

"But," she pressed on, cutting him off. "You left out how that includes our own opinions of ourselves; how to handle shaken self-confidence, and when others' opinions are more objective than our own. You never talked to me about being your own worst enemy if you let your fear and doubts keep you down."

"I think that's enough for now," Havoc tried to step in.

Her Dad held up his hand and shook his head. "Go on, Sara."

"I know you know these things," she said finally. "So tell me again, why it is you don't listen to yourself?" She reached into her pocket almost on instinct, and stuck out the letter from Franz she had put in there earlier. "Other people do."

Ed looked startled, but took the folded paper and opened it. He read through the entire letter, then glanced briefly at the photo and gave her an inquisitive look. Then he looked back at the letter and sighed. "You should be a lawyer, kiddo. You make a convincing argument. Though Havoc's been giving me an earful too."

"He has?" Sara looked over at the other man, surprised. She had considered him a large part of the problem.

Havoc shrugged. "What can I say? I care."

Ed thanked Havoc for the coffee – and the lecture – and led Sara down to the car. He and Havoc had talked for quite a while after he'd calmed down a little, and he had a lot to think about. Sara's arrival had just re-emphasized a lot of the things he needed to mull over.

When they got in the car, Ed didn't start it at once. Instead, he sighed and leaned his head back against the headrest. After the last forty-eight hours, he was almost afraid to go home. "Your Mom is going to kill me."

"No she's not," Sara replied, shaking her head. "I mean, yeah, she's totally pissed at you, but I think she's just worried. We've all been worried."

"I know," Ed sighed. "And I'm sorry for that. None of this turned out the way I had hoped." If it had worked, he'd have gotten over all the crap that kept messing with his mind and making him a nerve-shattered wreck. Havoc had been right though. Hell, they'd all been right! Ed's little 'quick fix' had been anything but. It was still hard to admit, even to himself, just how stupid he had been. But if Ed didn't turn things around, he would be worse off than if he'd just never come home. Okay, perhaps that was exaggerating things a little! "You'll want this back," he said, remembering Sara's letter then, and pulling it out of his pocket with the picture. "That's Private Heimler with you in the photo isn't it?"

Sara nodded, and Ed noticed that she flushed just slightly as she put both back into her own pocket quickly. "Yeah. He's a friend."

"He's a good one," Ed said quietly. "I have to admit, I'm not sure I remember which one his father was after this long, but…" The words his father said were good ones. 'You're not beaten till you're dead.' Ed had always thought that himself. He would have to really decide if he thought differently now or not, but the idea that you could be beaten while you were still living just felt 'wrong.' Had he forgotten every lesson he'd learned about life since he was twelve?

"You inspire a lot of people," Sara smiled up at him, regaining her composure. "Not just by being a kick-ass alchemist, but because you're you."

"You're just saying that because I'm your dad." Ed chuckled just a little though.

"Nah, that means as your teenage daughter I should be your biggest critic," Sara countered.

Ed thought of his own father and actually laughed then. It felt good. "I don't know. You're less of a pain in the ass than I am."

"I can work harder to match you," Sara teased.

"That's all right." Winry would never forgive either of them! "I haven't been a very good father lately," Ed sighed.

"That doesn't mean you've been terrible either," Sara contradicted him. She was just full of quick responses today! Her comments earlier, tossing his words back in his face so effectively, had really made a point. "Aldon knows you're kind of screwed up right now. I think Ethan's the only one who doesn't really understand what's going on. But we want to help you through this, Dad, and you keep shutting us out. Believe it or not, we'd all rather share that burden with you. We're hurting too but you won't let us in."

Ed wasn't sure he could feel much lower; despite the fact he knew Sara was trying to help, to encourage him. "No one should have to go through that, not even second hand," he replied.

"I 'saw' the damage, Dad; some of it anyway, remember? I heard you tell the doctors on the front and General Breda everything. Mom knows too. Pretending you're okay and hiding that you're not doesn't fool anyone." Sara's voice had softened. Clearly, she wasn't quite as furious with him as she had been earlier.

"From the mouth of my daughter comes sense," Ed commented lightly. The conversation, like most lately, was making him uncomfortable. But she was right. "You know it's really disconcerting knowing you know about all that right?"

"Sorry," Sara sighed. "But it's better than pretending I don't isn't it? It makes me kind of squirmy too you know. But then, a lot of things I've seen now do. You know," she said softly. "I still have bad dreams too. I know they're nothing compared to what you went through but, I'd still feel better if we could talk about them sometimes."

"Absolutely," Ed promised, and he meant it. "Just do me a favor and kick me if I forget I said that okay?"

Sara saluted him smartly, grinning. "Yes Sir!"

Ed rolled his eyes. "Don't do that!

They both started laughing – real, if slightly manic laughter – the kind that washed away stress and made the world seem all right again. Ed couldn't remember the last time he had really laughed.

Havoc was right. The only thing defeating Ed for the last few weeks was Ed: his own impatience, his own fears, and his own horrendous attempts at trying to fix his screwed up psychology before he was really ready. Patience was something Ed still had trouble with in some things and his own ability to function was the biggest one of them.

When they stopped laughing, Ed started the car. "Come on, Sara. Let's go home."


End file.
